Gravedigger
by Isis Lied
Summary: When an aloof, bad-mouthed exorcist with a vendetta against demons meets Amaimon, a Gehenna prince with a penchant for killing anything that moved, all assumed that the very pits of Hell would break open. What actually happens, arguably, is much worse. Amaimon/OC
1. Chapter 1- From the Grave

Gravedigger  
When an aloof, bad-mouthed exorcist with a vendetta against demons meets Amaimon, a Gehenna prince with a penchant for killing anything that moves, all assumed that the very pits of Hell would break open. What actually happens, arguably, is much worse. Amaimon/OC

Genre: Adventure, Supernatural

A/N: Finished this up while working on the second chap of Ice King which should be up soon, if anyone's following that story, lol. What can I say, plot bunnies are fun :P

Disclaimer: I do not own Blue Exorcist.

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Chapter 1- From the Grave

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I wiped the sweat from my brows, pausing to look at the deep grave I had dug. The earth had given way at my fingertips, gaped open to accept the mahogany coffin that would soon find its final resting place. I had measured the area well enough, untangled any loose roots and rocks to leave the dark soil free of any blemishes. The grave would probably be filled in the morning— I knew the exorcist who was to be buried here and assumed he would be getting a real funeral, unlike other, less known exorcists.

"I'm about done here." I called to the only other gravedigger at True Cross Cemetery, Tetsuo Shiki. He was an elderly man with messy, white hair and a heavily lined face, but his eyes which were a sharp grey, shone with intelligence and understanding. He grunted in response, still working to fill his final grave of the night. I took that as my cue to leave, picking up my shovel and oil-lamp before disappearing into the funeral home.

While the Vatican had the funds to employ actual machines and enough staff to make the workload near non-existent, the Honorary Knight of the Japanese Branch, Mephisto Pheles, seemed adamant on keeping actual gravediggers to make the graves. Which I didn't question, considering he was a centuries old demon king (which one, I was unsure due to his alias) and enjoyed the usual pomp and theatrics that went on in human life— and death.

Grave-digging was my day job— err, night job. All exorcists were required to have some other occupation as a front, and I had chosen this job for one reason and one reason only: it gave me plenty of time to hunt demons. Well, that and it gave me more free time then you'd imagine (cremations were on a rise but I was paid a steady salary based on the hours I worked, not how many graves I filled).

Now, there's no tragic past or other bullshit as to why I have the second-highest kill count. I do it because it's what I've been trained to do. Simply put, exorcists exorcise demons. Gravediggers dig graves. I did what I did to make a living. Harsh? Probably, but at least I killed them quickly and efficiently, not like others who toyed with demons and made exorcism some twisted sport. I also wasn't trigger happy; I killed demons on the Vatican's list and those that I came across in my wanderings, if they were indeed a threat to society.

Shuffling to my own metal locker, I put my equipment inside, taking a quick peak at my appearance from the small mirror tacked inside. I vainly wiped at the dirt stains against my pale skin which looked more like bruises than anything else. My bright red hair (a genetic gift from my mother, who while from Ireland, met my father during an exorcist mission in Kyoto) was also similarly covered in soil. It looked more like a muddy brown in the dim light of the locker room as I shook out my short, boyish red locks for excess dirt. Feeling satisfied enough that I didn't look like I had just clawed myself out of a grave, I set my dark eyes to the black coat curled inside my locker.

I quickly slipped on the tattered exorcist coat. It had been burned recently when a Salamander demon which had been assumed peaceful started randomly setting villages on fire. Needless to say, it probably had something to do with what the Vatican wasn't telling us.

I had noticed the 'cover-up' earlier than most due to my kill count. It had risen exponentially in the past few months as I was given mission after mission without reprieve. So much so that I actually had to go with a team (people weren't exactly my cup of tea) to ensure a successful completion of said missions. The demons were becoming particularly restless. The findings in Yemen were kept in wraps and only those above upper first-class (and a few exceptions) knew the true details. All other exorcists were put on high-alert, but told nothing of the actual danger.

So here I was, an upper second-class exorcist (which I had worked damn hard for), left out in the dark. I couldn't even get anything out of Shura, despite taking her out for a couple beers. She had rambled on and on about her mission with Satan's son, but even being horribly inebriated would not loosen her tongue on what was actually found in the desert. All I knew was that whatever it was caused most demons to be particularly aggressive and flighty; restful spirits that guarded shrines were even starting to cause problems.

Sighing, I picked up my duffle bag which held my exorcist weapon of choice, an M82A1 semi-automatic anti-materiel rifle filled with magnum holy bullets. I was a bit of a sharp-shooter, you could say. I dabbled in Aria as well, but I preferred staying silent when it came to demon hunting— it was much easier to kill something that didn't know you were there. Saying one final goodbye to Shiki-san (who was one of the few people I actually enjoyed spending time with, not including Shura), I left the graveyard and started making my way towards my apartment.

Which would have signaled the end of a normal night. I would have stumbled back to my apartment, taken a shower, and spent a few hours reading until the spindles of sleep became too much. I would have done this, if a dozen king hobgoblins hadn't appeared at my side the moment I made it to the apartment complex.

"Shit..." I muttered, checking the quiet street. There was no one, to my relief. It wouldn't do any good to see some apparent psychopath shooting at nothing in the middle of the night.

Reaching into my long duffle bag, I quickly set to work, reaching for my smaller hand-pistol that I kept on me just in case (especially when long-distance attacks were impossible). Pushing in a clip of holy bullets I muttered a little aria chant that would strengthen the bullets; I was hoping to not have to waste too many good bullets on small fries.

The hobgoblins were already acting as if I had doused them in holy water; the twelve were scurrying across the street, running into lampposts and brick façades before stumbling back towards me. They must have eventually became cognizant enough to understand my existence was threatening to them because in a flash of green and red all twelve turned their crimson eyes towards me. They attacked simultaneously.

A bit startled by their sudden shift in behavior, I managed to shoot six of them before being tackled to the ground by one especially angered hobgoblin. I fell painfully to the concrete, feeling my head collide with the concrete. The world was blurry for a moment as I lifted the barrel of my gun right in the middle of the demon's eyes and pulled the trigger.

In moments the demon disintegrated, only to be followed by five more disgruntled hobgoblins. They all charged at my weakened form, the largest landing mere centimeters from my head. Its revolting breath blasted air into my face as I rolled to the side, just missing another hobgoblin's attempt at impaling my side with its clawed arms.

It took me three shots to end those two while the remaining three hobgoblins scurried away, knocking over trashcans and running into street lamps on their way.

"Like hell you're leaving!" I growled, getting ready to sprint after them. But just as the group turned the corner a new, different hobgoblin leapt from the roof of the apartment.

This one was yellow with matching markings and didn't even attack; it just sat there obediently as if it were waiting for someone. Against my better judgment, I holstered my gun, taking a closer look at the strangely-colored hobgoblin. _Perhaps it was an exorcist's_, I mused, noticing the chain and leash that trailed behind it.

_That's a bit... much._ Tamers, or at least the ones I knew, tended to be very kind to their summons. While this behavior wasn't unheard of, it made me wonder just who summoned this unusual hobgoblin and if it was really such a threat.

"There you are, Behemoth." An apathetic voice spoke from the same roof that the demon had leapt down from. I had to squint to see the visage of a man hop down from the building, landing near silently besides his demon.

Upon seeing the man's face clearly thanks to the nearby street lamp I immediately paled, fingers searching for my holstered gun. It was the tell-tale signs of a demon-possessed human: sharp fangs which peaked curiously from under his lips when he stuck a lollipop into his mouth, narrowed pupils, darkened claws, and pointed ears. His unusual shade of hair, a dark forest green, was also another obvious sign that the possession wasn't from just any regular demon.

"Who are you?" I questioned bluntly.

"What's _your_ name?" He questioned back, a curious glint in his eyes. His cerulean orbs kept returning to the holster at my side; I guess he had seen my interaction with the other hobgoblins.

I sighed but responded accordingly, "Avaron Kamiya."

"Avaron..." He parroted back. This caused my eyebrows to furrow in exasperation. Either this guy was an idiot or he really wanted to piss me off.

And your name?" I tried again, not even bothering to hide my annoyance.

"Oh, I'm Amaimon. Nice to meet you... I guess."

He shrugged, pulling on Behemoth's leash. "Come on Behemoth. Aniue said I couldn't play with any of the humans in this town."

_Oh shit._ He was a fucking demon king! No exorcist alive had ever taken down even a single king on their own and I sure as hell wasn't planning to do that now. I knew that even my prized rifle would do nothing to the king. Not to mention any Aria chants; the problem with demon kings was that while we were all required to learn their fatal verses, it was near impossible to recite them all without dying first due to their extraordinary length. Amaimon's fatal verse was actually the whole book of Job, if I remembered correctly.

Hesitantly, and most likely due to my stupid curiosity I muttered, "So you're the king of Earth then..."

He nodded, apparently hearing my statement. "And you're the demon killer."

"Demon killer?"

He pointed to the ash-like remains of the hobgoblins. "I heard about you in Gehenna." The demon spoke, turning away.

"Wait!" I called back, almost clamping a hand over my mouth. Just what did I think I was doing? Out of all the demon kings, Amaimon was known especially for his ferocity. He killed out of boredom, leaving both trails of exorcists and demons not under his domain in his wake. For a demon connected with life (Earth), he certainly enjoyed death a bit too much, not that I had room to talk. I knew he was dangerous but even I had my limits; there was no way I could get out of a fight with him without losing a limb, at the very least.

"Do you need something, demon killer?" He asked lackadaisically, pulling on Behemoth's chains again. The demon had found our conversation particularly boring as he had fallen asleep.

"Leave Assiah."

The green-haired man cocked his head to the side. "Why?"

I really didn't expect this situation to be going so... civil, for lack of better words.

"Because you're causing a lot of trouble."

It looked like the Earth King was actually pondering my words until he shook his head, pointing at me with a single darkened nail. "Okay, on one condition."

"Which is...?"

"You have to play with me. I wanna go up against the demon killer." He said childishly before disappearing into the night, not even waiting for an answer. I vainly hoped that the demon wouldn't come back— I almost tricked myself into believing he wouldn't show, until a few nights later when I found him sitting lazily on my living room sofa like he owned the place.

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A/N: Just another plot-bunny I needed to write down. This will be a more action-oriented fic, to be sure. This was more of an introduction to Avaron; next chap should be an interesting fight and more Amaimon so… XD

_**Review?**_

-Isis


	2. Chapter 2- Where Devils Rome

Chapter 2- Where Devils Rome

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"Yo." He commented, raising a single clawed hand in a non-committal wave. He had his feet tucked under him (with his shoes on my couch!), taking in the sight of my apartment.

"It's a bit too crowded... and messy to play in." He started again after I hadn't responded, merely stood at the doorway dumbly with my hands curled around my keys. His comment quick-started my brain as I huffed, frowning. I slammed the door shut before stalking over to the Gehenna prince.

"It's an organized mess, thank you very much. I know where everything is while no else does." I did had to give Amaimon credit, though; I wasn't blind enough to not see how cluttered my apartment was. I had random nick-knacks (I'm a bit of an impulsive buyer, you see) up on the bookshelves, stacks of books on the floor (which were arranged by genre, at least), papers (some important, some not so much) pushed into a single tall pile on the glass table, and a few random clips of bullets. But it was how I wanted to keep things; an organized tornado of belongings.

Amaimon suddenly picked up one of the bullets from the table in front of him, letting the blessed metal burn his hand. He peered at it curiosity with no outward show of emotion to his smoking flesh. Eventually, I snatched the bullet from him, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

"What the hell?! If it burns don't touch it!" I scolded. God, it felt like I was looking after a five-year old- A demonic five-year old.

He shrugged. "Those didn't hurt too much... did you bless them?"

What an asshole! I should have let him burn his hands off! Instead of voicing my anger, I sighed, picking up some of the loose magnum rounds and putting them inside the small jewelry box where I normally kept my more expensive bullets.

I turned back to the demon. "Do I look ordained to you? There's no fucking way I blessed those bullets!"

"Well, you don't look like an exorcist..." He commented, pointing to my dirty attire. I had just gotten back from another night shift at the cemetery which explained my ruddy appearance.

"I'm a gravedigger on the side."

This sparked a hint of curiosity in his eyes. The demon gnawed on his thumbnail before speaking, "Do you like your job?"

I frowned. Just what was he getting at? "It's alright, I guess. It pays well enough and it doesn't interfere with my exorcist work."

"Then we should play at the graveyard."

I almost nodded- wait, what?! I quickly shook my head. There's no way I'm fighting on top of corpses. Sure, that probably sounded like a good time for Amaimon, but I actually had respect for the dead. Besides, if I lived through the fight I'd have to fix up the graves and replace headstones, assuming that the king would use his powers of Earth to try and kill me.

"Uh, it's generally impolite to even walk across someone's grave; I'm pretty sure fighting's worse."

He tipped his head to the side. "Oh, right. I think aniue told me about that. Humans put their loved ones in coffins or cremate them out of respect."

I raised my eyebrow. He was still learning human culture? I thought this guy was like thousands of years old! Well, I mused, he probably spent most of his time in Assiah destroying things, not asking about petty human culture and ceremonies.

"Yah..." I trailed off, slightly unnerved by the way Amaimon was looking at me. He was still perched on my couch, thumb resting against his lips, cold eyes unflinching. It was creepy, to say the least.

"Could you stop staring at me like that? It makes me want to shoot you in the face." I said bluntly. I wasn't really one to skirt around the truth; being brutally honest was just one of my ingrained traits.

"I'm not staring at you."

I balked. His eyes were looking right at me! "Okay then; what are you looking at?"

"Mirror..." He mumbled quietly, shifting so one of his legs dangled off the side of the couch.

I knew I didn't have any mirrors in the living room, so what was the demon getting at? "There aren't any mirrors here, Amaimon."

"Not that type of mirror." He planted his feet on the floor, rising to stand up. I watched as the demon peered again at me, except he put up his hands and cupped his fingers into makeshift binoculars. Silently, I wondered if all demon kings were as nutty as Amaimon (although, there was also Mephisto- so odds are the environment in Gehenna just fosters weirdoes).

"Now, where should we go play...?" He continued, eyes sweeping across my apartment. I guess he forgot all about the 'mirror' or whatever.

Without warning there was a cold hand on my neck. I reflexively felt for the gun in my holster, though I knew it would do nothing to stop the demon king. The scripture of Job ran through my head as the clawed hand moved further down, yanking me by the collar.

"I got an idea, gravedigger. But you can't struggle or we might get separated." He said cryptically before reverting to demon tongue. The sound was harsh and unfamiliar before my ears, a strange mix of languages that culminated to a deathly silence.

I almost voiced my complaints at being man-handled until the floor underneath us began to shake violently. Books and other knick-knacks fell from the shelves in a spiral of weathered text as I panicked, tempted to fire a few rounds at the demon's head. He was destroying my apartment!

"What the fuck?! Did you summon an earthquake?!"I screeched, truly realizing the magnitude of Amaimon's power. He wasn't just some strange brat with bad manners and bags under his eyes; he was the seventh prince of Gehenna, one of the Baal. The King of Earth.

There was a pause before he responded, pointing lazily to the wooden floor. It was splintering under us in chunks, a blue light filtering in from the ground. "We're going to Gehenna."

It was then that I noticed the swarm of eyes; we were standing right on top of a Gehenna Gate.

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When I woke, it was to a barren sea of sand. I coughed bitterly, feeling the grains scrape against the back of my throat. I swallowed and shuddered, feeling as if I were swallowing small razor blades.

There was something akin to a sun, I realized, once I managed to pry my eyes open. The pseudo-sun was blue; electric blue and twice the size of the light that warmed the earth. I rose on shaking feet, feeling the weight of the past events catching up to me.

This was Gehenna. The land of demons. And all I had was a handgun and a clip of weakly-blessed bullets. Cursing, I trudged through the russet landscape, looking for the demon that landed me in this fucking mess. But, Amaimon was nowhere to be seen. I guess I had resisted too much, seeing as there was no sign of the pointy-haired freak.

There was only sand and the rare demon carcass, which funny enough, gave me the strange urge to grave-dig. I quickly shook away the ridiculous thoughts. I needed to focus and get the hell out of here, not spend my time digging graves for all these demons!

Still, as I walked through the skeleton of what must have been a huge salamander, I felt a twinge of pity. Such a beast must have been old, wise, powerful. It deserved a warrior's burial, at the very least. Human or demon, I respected those who did not give up in a fight. Even the demons that attacked me; when I saw a demon who was still trying to attack even after being riddled with bullet holes I would usually give a mercy kill, whispering a sutra of some sort before silencing the crying monster with a final gunshot.

It was kind of my policy.

As I continued my aimless wandering, I noticed that the land around me was strangely barren. Sure, it was desert in its design, but even I assumed there would be at least a few coal tar floating about. But there was nothing; just sand dunes and ivory bone. I was almost ready to sit down and give up when the ground began to rumble, the dunes splitting apart to reveal the familiar figure of a certain demon king. He was buried, with only his face and claws above the sands.

"Amaimon, you fucking asshole!" I broke into a mad sprint, anger fueling my every step. I was searching for this jerk for hours and here he was, taking a fucking dirt nap! Just as I went to shake the demon awake, his eyes shot open, a clawed hand wrapping around my wrist.

"Gotcha~" He sang, pulling me down into the sand. I felt the air being pushed out of my chest at the sudden motion, his strength making it so my body left a deep imprint. Sand began to pour over me as he gave a cold leer, laughing over my fallen form like a child.

"You're a gravedigger, right? Don't you want to know what it feels like? Being buried alive?"

"N-no!" I managed to yell between gasps, spitting out grains of sand. The sand poured faster against me as I struggled futilely, just managing to keep my head above the ground.

"Wait! D-didn't you want a fight? This is cheating, anyway!" I tried to reason, hoping that my words would somehow spark a reaction in the green-haired demon.

But I feared nothing would happen. The sand was invading my vision now, nearly covering my entire mouth and nose. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe and—

There was a sudden yank against my wrist before I found myself being pulled out of my grave, thrown a few feet into the air. I landed with a harsh thud, a pained cry escaping my lips. I had landed awkwardly on my side, the sand acting like concrete due to the force of my fall. I imagined that a few of my ribs had cracked, each breath now a strained gasp. God, if I punctured a lung—

"Come on then, gravedigger. Let's play." Amaimon was at my side in an instant, claws poised over my throat. Reflexively, I pulled my gun from its holster, aiming it dead set between his eyes and fired. To my horror, he stopped the bullet with his hand. It left a smoking trail in his flesh, one that made his eyes narrow.

"That kind of stung; I thought you were a demon killer. You should try harder." He mumbled, absentmindedly picking out the blessed bullet from his palm. It was then that I started whispering the beginning chapter of Job, aiming my gun at his eye this time. This brought a genuine reacting from the demon, causing him to bare his teeth and lunge at my neck.

"Shut up!" He snarled.

I pulled the trigger, feeling satisfied that the bullet made its mark, digging into Amaimon's eye. He reeled back slightly, an annoyed growl rumbling from his chest. I took the time to aim again, still frantically chanting the book of Job.

"Gotcha." I sneered mid-chant, aiming at his neck. The gun clicked, revealing it to be empty. It was then that Amaimon stumbled forward again, one hand pressed to his bleeding eye. He towered over me for a single chilling second before diving forward, fingers pressed together like a blade. I felt an excruciating pain in my chest before the world grew dark.

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_So this is it… _ I thought, feeling my conscience return. There was no way I had survived; the demon had buried his entire hand into my chest. I wouldn't have been surprised if he hadn't grabbed my heart.

_Well, I guess I should open my eyes. Get my first glances of whatever this place is—heaven, hell, nowhere. _

When I opened my eyes I was met with the familiar sights of my apartment, bookshelves orderly and arranged by genre; just as I had left them before the opening of the Gehenna Gate.

"What the…?" I trailed off, scanning the room. It definitely looked like my room. There were bullets everywhere, papers strewn across the floor. Even my red cellphone was on the glass table, beside an empty glass.

"That was fun." A voice quipped from behind. Instinctively, I turned towards the sound, finding that Amaimon was lying across the floor on his stomach. He was reading one of my manga volumes, a bored expression on his face once more. There was no sign of his wound.

"B-but didn't we—how are you here? How am _I _here?!" I spluttered, confusion apparent in my voice. Just what the hell was going on? He killed me— I felt his fucking hand in my chest!

"Oh, I've got to thank aniue later. I asked him if I could bring a human's conscience to Gehenna so we could play freely. He said it was a good idea so I wouldn't break anything in his 'beloved Assiah.'" Amaimon explained, still flipping through the manga like he hadn't just had his eye shot through.

Wordlessly, I pulled my gun from its holster, aiming it at the troublemaking demon's head. Counting to three in my mind, I gave a final warning.

"Get the hell out of my apartment!"

To my surprise, the demon did so, but took my manga with him. He reached into his coat pocket to pull out a wrapped lollipop, throwing it towards me. I snatched it with my free hand, brows furrowed in confusion.

"See ya later, gravedigger. I'll be back when I want to play again." He waved, stepping casually out the door and closing it behind himself before I could shoot him.

"My name is Avaron Kamiya! And don't you ever come back!" I yelled, despite knowing the demon was probably already gone. Plopping back onto my couch, I sighed, running an anxious hand through my short red locks. Now I had a new, annoying problem on my hands: how to keep Amaimon from breaking into my apartment. I wonder how many sutras you'd need to keep out a high-level demon king…

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A/N: Sorry for the delay, guys ^^' Mephisto and company should show up next chap, but for the time being, I hope the story's somewhat interesting XD Thanks again for all the faves/follows/reviews! They really make my day!

_**Review?**_

-Isis


	3. Chapter 3- Sleeping in Coffins

Chapter 3- Sleeping in Coffins

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Despite all my fervent wishing, the demon king did not stay away for long. Three nights later, I found the green-haired demon sleeping in one of the many coffins in the storeroom of the morgue. The building made entirely of brick rested a few yards away from the morgue itself; it was where we kept our spare coffins, shovels, and other embalming tools. You couldn't keep them near dead bodies, after all (especially in a place like True Cross, where it wouldn't surprise me if you stumbled upon a ghoul or two).

I had chanced upon the sleeping demon after finishing the preparations for the burial tomorrow morning— I wasn't really one for funerals. They generally consisted of sobbing, orchestral songs, and bad food. Since there was only me and Shiki-san, I tended to dig the graves the night before while he buried the coffin during the day. It kept me from seeming 'unsympathetic' and 'rude' as he called it since I tended to stay silent during funeral precessions, keeping my sunglasses on so people couldn't see how much I didn't want to be there; I wasn't actively trying to be a jackass, I was just used to people dying. The life expectancy of exorcists wasn't exactly long.

_How refreshingly morbid…_

Anyway, it was obvious that someone had been in the storeroom that night. Three of the mahogany coffins were open, white lining ripped and exposed. It looked like someone had torn through it with scissors— or claws. The single coffin that was finished with black paint was suspiciously closed— suspiciously, because I could hear a soft snoring emanating from inside. For a moment, I entertained the notion of a zombie or ghoul inside, until the snores grew so loud and so repetitive that I knew it had to either be some weird brat who thought sleeping in coffins was cool, or a demon.

Turns out, I was right on both accounts. I pushed the button on the side of the coffin which caused the lid to spring up, revealing the green-haired demon king. He had his familiar inside there too, who was the real culprit for the obnoxious snores. Amaimon merely had his mouth partially open, soft breaths rising from his chest. I paused at the appearance of the sleeping demon.

He looked _almost _harmless in the coffin, arms curled around his hobgoblin familiar (Behemoth was his name, I think). If it wasn't for the claws and the glimpse of fangs, he could almost pass off as a regular human; that is, until he opened his eyes, pupils narrowed to slits.

He gave a long yawn, not bothering to cover his mouth. Behemoth mimicked the demon king and was rewarded with a quick rub behind its horns. Amaimon stretched out his arms, looking at me curiously.

"Hello, gravedigger." He gave a peace sign which only made me roll my eyes.

"What are you doing here, Amaimon? Wait, how are you even on campus? There are wards everywhere."

The demon ignored my question, shifting a bit in the coffin so his gaze was fixed towards me and not the coffin lid. "Coffins are really comfortable. You should try it some time."

"Stop avoiding the question!" I snapped, livid. Behemoth gave a low growl at my tone, probably noticing the malice in my voice.

Amaimon hushed the demon immediately, returning to scratching the area behind its horns. "Be quiet, Behemoth. I'm trying to have a conversation with Miss Gravedigger."

I retorted briskly, "My name is Avaron. Avaron Kamiya!"

He took in the information like it was new, rolling the syllables in his mouth. "Avaron… Kamiya. Okay, Avaron-chan."

I grimaced. That was much too familiar of a title and sounded ridiculously sweet; I definitely preferred gravedigger as a nickname. "Uh… just go with gravedigger. I don't care anymore."

The Earth King nodded, making no effort to remove himself from the dark coffin despite being in an exorcist's presence. His eyes widened marginally as he tried to sit up. "Now I remember. I was going to return this."

Reaching into the inside of his coat pocket, he revealed the random manga volume that he'd taken from me a few days ago. He threw it to me without warning. I caught it easily, frowning.

"You didn't hide out in this coffin all day just to return this, did you?"

He did not respond; instead, he closed the lid of the coffin abruptly, startling even Behemoth who gave a surprised squeak. I waited a few moments, expecting for the demon king to pop out randomly. But, the coffin lid remained closed. No sound emanated from inside.

I had enough of this ridiculous demon; Baal or not, he was getting on my last nerve! "Get out! You can't sleep here!" I started to beat against the lid, tempted to pull out my handgun. Insufferable bastard!

No response.

I tried again, pressing the automatic button on the side. It started to open, but the Earth King quickly slipped a claw over the button and broke it before shutting the lid again.

"Is this some sort of game to you?! I can't have a demon king sleeping in a graveyard where exorcists are buried!" I said in a hushed whisper. If I didn't have to worry about Shiki-san stumbling into the storeroom, I'd have screamed. This was part of the reason I didn't work well with others; my volatile personality. Shura called it an 'inability to deal with people's shit,' which, arguably, extended to apathetic demon kings.

"…Brother's mad. I'm gonna stay here until he cools off." The voice came back in a muffled monotone, but something was off. I wasn't the best at reading people, but I swore I heard a hint of fear from the demon's words. Just who could scare a centuries old demon king?

_No one except a stronger, older demon king. _

The pieces of the puzzle, from Amaimon's sudden appearance inside the barrier, mentions of a sibling, our 'game' in Gehenna, and general aloofness, were falling into place.

"Is your brother Mephisto Pheles?"

There was a long pause. Eventually, Amaimon spoke, "Yah. He is."

_Damn. _

"What's making him angry?" I questioned, pushing my luck. Maybe the demon could tell me which domain Mephisto ruled over— or his real name, at least.

"…If I tell you, he'll get even angrier." Amaimon replied slowly, the sound of tearing cloth following after.

I started to beat against the coffin, though my voice remained low. "What are you doing?! I don't want to pay for a damaged coffin. Stop shitting around!"

"Sorry." He mumbled, though his tone remained monotone. "Brother says it's one of my bad habits, breaking things."

_Aww, _if I had a heart that statement would have been painful. But I wasn't going to pity some demon king who had killed thousands of people for 'fun.'

The tearing stopped, to my relief. It was replaced with silence, followed by the soft whines of Behemoth. I didn't know if this was better or not; pushing the coffin open, I found that Amaimon had begun to chew his nails.

'Chew' being a euphemism. He had nearly bitten off his finger at this point; blood poured down his thumb, running down his arm and staining his green arm warmers. He continued to bite his skin as if he didn't see me. I honestly wouldn't have been surprised if he hadn't. His gaze remained milky and unfocused, cerulean orbs fixed to a single point of the tattered fabric of the coffin.

"S-stop that!" I chastised, pulling at his wrist. The appendage gave way as I glared at the demon king who remained emotionless.

"You told me not to tear at the fabric so…" He trailed off, a strange flash of _something _passing his eyes. My grip on his wrist loosened.

The demon was definitely a psychopath, but he was damn good at garnering sympathy. What, when he didn't break things he broke himself instead? Just what went on in his head?

"Just sit here. I'll get some bandages." I grumbled, moving from my squatting position beside the coffin. Amaimon gave a hum in response, staring almost fascinatingly at his bleeding digit. Yep, I was getting out of here before he decided to lick it or do something else as equally disgusting.

Right as I closed the storeroom door, I found Shiki-san in front of me. He had a shovel in hand and a confused look on his face. He wiped the sweat from his brow before speaking. "I heard you talking in there, Avaron. What's going on?"

I racked my brain for a lie, biting my lip. "Uh… there was a ghost. I took care of it though; he passed on."

The silver-haired man's eyes narrowed for a moment, but the expression of doubt quickly disappeared as he handed me the shovel. "Alright, I'll take your word for it. Can you put the shovel back? I'm leaving since _I _have to take care of the funeral tomorrow."

There was a hint of a smirk on his face as I laughed, taking the dirt-covered shovel. "Right, right, I'll lock up for tonight. Get some rest, old man."

"You too, Avaron. And quit with the 'old man' crap." He grimaced, patting me on the shoulder before hobbling towards the funeral home. I waved at his departing figure, slipping back into the storeroom to return the shovel.

Amaimon was still in the coffin, cradling his thumb. Something about the wound was bugging me; back in the apartment when he touched the blessed bullets the wound healed seconds later. But now with just his teeth, the bleeding hadn't stopped.

"Did Mephisto do something to you?" I questioned, hand curled around the doorknob. I needed the full story before I helped him; for all I know, it could be some sort of taming technique to keep him from using his full power. An exorcist could have done this to him. Regardless, I wanted to know the truth.

"It's to keep me from attacking Rin Okumura. Whenever I'm hurt, time slows down for my organs, making it difficult for me to heal." He explained, but made no effort to tell me why it had been done to him in the first place.

Well, that narrowed down the options on which of Amaimon's 'brothers' Mephisto was. The elusive demon had to be the King of Time and Space, Samael. I stored the information away for now, returning to my original task.

"I'll get some bandages. You can… stay on my couch or something until I figure out what to do with you. I don't want you desecrating a grave or some shit." I grumbled, reluctantly giving him permission to follow me back home.

The green-haired demon nodded, mumbling something to Behemoth. The hobgoblin gurgled in response, hopping out of the coffin to trail towards me.

"Behemoth will make sure you're safe. And that you're not trying to kill me."

I snorted. "Please, if I wanted to kill you you'd already be dead. You're lucky you caught me on a good day, Earth King."

* * *

Af

After bandaging the wound and swatting at the demon's hand for the fiftieth time (he just couldn't stop fucking with the bandages!), I lead him back to my apartment. He took his seat obediently on the sofa as I rushed to the closet, picking out some blankets and a pillow. I didn't know if demons needed blankets and pillows, but it seemed like a safe bet.

Amaimon took the sleeping materials with barely a word. I was about to go to my bedroom when I felt his claws curl around my wrist.

I turned back, noticing the look of fear in his eyes. "Don't tell brother about this." There was genuine terror in his words which was more worrisome then the way that he fell immediately asleep when his head hit the pillow. It was the first time that I heard his voice rise above a monotone. I knew Mephisto Pheles— err, Samael, was a dangerous demon, but I didn't know he could be this terrifying to his siblings.

"Geeze, why would I go and tell your shitty brother, who, for the record, made it so I have to man the graveyard almost singlehandedly? Just go to sleep."

No response, as expected. The demon had fallen asleep during my rant. Though, at least he listened to me… kind of.

Sighing, I went into my bedroom. Changing into my sleeping attire, I took one last glance at the demon through the doorway. Behemoth had curled up beside him, small arms trailing off the edge of the red sofa. Even I had to admit it was kinda cute.

Closing the door, I turned to my desk, picking up my pistol. I kept it under my pillow in case of break-ins (whether they were of human or demon origin). Before I could turn away from the table, a smooth voice whispered in my ear, a cold hand draped on my shoulder.

"Now, now, why has a little exorcist kidnapped my baby brother~?"

Reflexively, I pulled on the trigger, aiming at whoever was behind me. But then the gun wasn't in my hand; the somewhat familiar face of Honorary Knight Mephisto Pheles leered at me, my gun in his hands.

He scattered the bullets onto the floor, putting up a finger to his mouth. "Shh, it wouldn't be wise to wake Amaimon. He can be quite cranky when waken early from a nap. Just as I am when someone _steals _one of my toys."

So I did the only thing that seemed logical at the time: I threatened him right back. "Get the hell out of my apartment, you fucking excuse for a brother!"

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the delay, guys D: School can be a real pain! Just wanted to thank ya for waiting and for the reviews/follows/favorites! They really motivate me to write XD

Anyway, I hope this chap was enjoyable! I'll see you guys in Chapter 4!

_**Review?**_

-Isis


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